


Hello My Old Heart

by Anonymous



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Established Cow Chop, Alternate Universe - No Formation of Creature Hub, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bodyswap, E rating from Chapter 3, Eventual Smut, M/M, Misunderstandings, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: James is quiet for a moment before: “You know, I’ve heard people say. . . I mean, Joe has told me at least— that you canfeelthe tether. And I’ve always kind of— shit, felt it still. Get me? After all these years —”Steadily, Aleks braves looking back at him. “I'm notthem. Your soulmate is out there, James."Because Aleks thought heknew. He was sure, positive without a doubt in his mind, James was hissoulmate. His mate. His switch.Aleks leans into the door to close it, leaving a fraction of his solemn face in James’ view."Good luck finding them."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title: ["Hello My Old Heart"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BeGU_em4wgQ) by The Oh Hellos  
> I intentionally wrote the plot and details to be set in an AU and none of the events that occur in this fic correspond with any events in real life (hence, ;) AU). Non-beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Rating recently changed from Mature to Explicit due to Ch. 3.

**April 2008**  
_James is 17, Aleks is 15_

 

The thing is, James Wilson really takes pride in making people laugh.

In his senior year of high school, up in his home’s attic, he makes an account on a video publishing website called _YouTube_. He signs up to post pointless videos made after school and _Dragonball Z_ clips. Some of the gaming videos pique his interest and he soon finds himself in a strange community that makes small clips and shorts of games for comedy called _Machinimas_. Short videos he puts together start to be uploaded to a channel called _Machinima Respawn_. He forges some friendships along the way; joining together often to make commentaries and playthroughs of games instead of making _Machinimas_.

It snowballs from that point.

Joe laughs at him when he states a few months after they graduate he might consider quitting his job to attempt to do whatever _this_ is full time. There’s little money in it, yes, but James admits he genuinely enjoys making the content and he’s growing a decent sized following. People enjoy his content and an _unbelievable_ amount of them subscribe to see when he uploads content.

He gets to contribute to a flash game called _Happy Wheels_ due to his loud and recognizable voice being a complete match for the game’s pogostick character.

James is loud on camera, yells and laughs and _curses_ strings of words, but it’s often a character. Causing mischief was a past time in high school, but he finds he’s more reserved and enjoys time to himself in the summer months after. It’s both exhilarating and exhausting to keep up the persona in videos, but the normal moments off camera —like when he tries to explain a recent wrestling program to his mother in the kitchen or when he stares at old family photos with his smiling parents in view or when he scrolls through news articles regarding recent soulmate stories and smiles to himself—display his natural self.

By the time Joe and him move out of their parents’ homes and into a small apartment of their own, James has a small, steady flow of revenue coming in as Joe enters college with a part-time job at a mechanic shop. They split the rent and save the rest for groceries or bills; leaving them with a minuscule amount of free spending money, but that’s all right.

A band of friends he often discussed games and _Machinimas_ with make a proposition to move across the country to Colorado to live in a group house and create group content. James considers the idea for days on end, but ultimately decides to decline for various reasons including leaving Joe behind and the inevitably of meeting his soulmate, or _mate_ as an affectionate or intimate term.

He’s been saving up since his teenage years from part-time jobs, as every normal, _middle-class_ income person did, for the trip he would inevitably have to make to find his soulmate. He thinks he might as well stay in the same area and continue saving for the day before deciding to pack up his things and move across the — _god forbid_ , globe— entire country.

Still, the group of men still keep in contact with James, help him improve his mic set-up —he had once resorted to sitting on the _ground_ in his bedroom with a laptop, a mic, and a monitor for two months— and chat about upcoming releases, but James remains in their small apartment, content.

When James gets a P.O. box, everything changes as the online comments on the screen become handwritten letters, drawings of him and Joe —he made Joe play and commentate on a recent Xbox _Uno_ series— that make him proud enough to stick them onto their fridge, and knick-knacks that gather on his desk.

Halfway through his second semester, Joe takes a break from college. James supports him, as he always has, and Joe supports him yelling in a _Cars_ inflatable for kids while playing _Mario Kart_ for Wii. They both dabble in dating, but there’s not a sense of _commitment_ from either parties.

Because what _is_ the purpose of dating when in a few years you will find out whether or not the fucking omniscient deities from above have destined you to have a promised, _kindred soul_?

It’s an infinite source of anxiety for most and James finds the thought of being unconditionally tethered to someone’s _soul_ daunting.


	2. Chapter 2

**June 2011**  
_James is 21, Aleks is 18_

 

To his credit, James was not going as haywire as the statistically average person did.

He had heard stories in his younger years, such fraud stories of how some people were sent to the E.R. for hyperventilating and passing _the fuck out_ just before midnight, but he knew he would never get to that point of anxiety about it. He knew there was a possibility of him of being the older of the pair, knew it was a fifty-fifty chance, and knew there was little possibility of there being too much of an age gap that went over ten years.

He was about to turn twenty-one, the exact age in which one switches bodies with their soulmate. Granted, this age timer only relied on the _younger_ of the two soulmates.

In most countries, high school students adhered to the government law of taking a class on the subject of soulmates before graduating. Most people under twenty-one could list off the phenomenon and protocol in detail off the top of their head.

The night of one’s twenty-first birthday, the so-called _switch_ occurred where soulmates would shift into their soulmate’s bodies. One remained in their soulmate’s body until swapping back. To swap back, there had to be a physical meeting, hands meeting hands or lips against lips or slaps across faces, between the soulmates.

If a meeting was not made, the varying switch of twenty-four hours to _three days_ would continue on infinitely over periods of time until the soulmates made a physical interaction. The general public concurs this continual swapping is inconvenient for most people’s everyday lives and many simply choose to meet and come to an agreement on their relationship.

Though rarely heard of, there were instances in which soulmates chose not to meet to decide their relationship’s, whether platonic or romantic, fate after swapping bodies. This is often seen by even the most progressive people in societies to be an _immoral_ decision due to the unknown and divine powers the switch is associated with.

Denying the soulbond was a sacrilege. No mortal person could dispute the unexplained tethers between soulmates.

A difficult situation appears when one is stuck in the body of someone living across the globe, but flexible laws and travel permits had been enacted to aid with said situations in the modern world. In ancient times, there were recordings of some soulmates traveling for months, _years_ even, due to unexplored continents and unknown locations of soulmates, by foot across continents and by ship across seas.

Some were a part of a small percentage of the population was without a soulmate, but that small sliver of people still lived their lives and fell in love despite this or didn’t feel the pull to have a soulmate at all. Some soulmates were _platonic_ , only sought companionship, and remained friends. Some soulmates fell head over heels in love, married, and decided years later they weren’t _compatible_ , divorced, and became friends or parted ways.

James’ own parents fell into this category when he was around eight.

Being someone’s other universe-created half wasn’t the end of the world. This was something people across the globe, across _all of time_ , went through. Why should he be nervous about it?

It was late in the evening as James sat comfortably on his couch at home with his best friend and roommate, Joe. He finished recording the final session of his channel’s _Dead Space 2_ playthrough and already had a part uploading upstairs. Sitting beside him, Joe equipped a notebook and pen in his grip, ready to jot down notes at James’ word.

He drifted a hand over the nape of his neck where bunches of ear length hair used to be until his haircut that morning —his mother had begged him to get it cut to look _handsome_ for his soulmate— and let out a breath.

“I can’t believe you’re only letting me drink _one_ beer.” He said to Joe, taking a sip from the bottle of their favorite brand with a sly smile. “I’m about to be of legal drinking age, anyway.”

“Oh whatever, like we or our fifteen-year-old selves _ever_ cared about ‘legal drinking age’.” The younger man paused and tapped at the notebook impatiently. “Come on, don’t you want your mate to be in good hands? I need _some_ kind of instruction on how you want me to handle tomorrow morning here. I hope you’re not as _nonchalant_ about all of this next month when I turn twenty-one.”

James waved him off and set down his drink. He had thought this through hundreds of times, but he would never reveal that to Joe. He found every scenario was too over thought and wanted his soulmate to just be calm and reassured when they woke up in a stranger’s body. That was what he himself wanted, at least.

James sat up, trying to find the right words to hide how _terribly_ he wanted this to go perfect. “Just, when I— I mean, _they_ wake up, knock on my bedroom door and see if it’s me. I might be the older one, Joe. It still might be me in the morning, but if it’s not, and it’s them, just be yourself and make them comfortable until they decide what they want to do.”

“I can’t believe you. I thought we were about to write bullet points or something!” Joe gave him an incredulous smile and threw the pen and paper aside.

James stood, laughing as he dodged the notepad the shorter man sent flying his way as he headed upstairs to his bedroom, “Goodnight, Joe.”

 

* * *

 

Despite all his talk of composure and certainty in his lack of nerves, James couldn’t close his eyes that night.

He had shut off his phone, stared at the ceiling, and laid there without an inch of drowsiness. His mind was high on adrenaline at the thought of finally meeting his soulmate.

 _His mate_ , he thought with an intake of breath.

This was someone who, supposedly, was to believe in him and make him wish to be a better person and know him better than anyone else. They would be someone he carries with him throughout his life for the better.

The thought of him fucking _that_ up terrified him, but he clung to it despite the fear.

Somehow, through some miracle, he drifted off into sleep before midnight with distant thoughts of waking up to the welcome sight of his soulmate’s bedroom.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock at his door. James opened his eyes blearily to the sight of a familiar room of minimal posters and pulled curtains that allowed morning sunlight to slip through them. His clock on his dresser read _9:37 A.M._ and his heart sank at the sound of Joe’s polite voice behind the door.

He pulled the blanket over his head, went back to sleep, and tried not to be too disappointed.

A cold voice whispered in the back of his mind that _maybe_ he was in that small percentage of those who had no soulmate. It made him squeeze his eyes shut even further and sink into his sheets with his head sheltered under blankets.

 

* * *

 

That night, two states over in Massachusetts, Aleks Marchant arrives at his cramped dorm at a ridiculous hour from taking the late request at his babysitting job. He has a test tomorrow in biology, but his exhausted body pulls him to his twin bed. Falling onto it, he makes his roommate across from him stir in their sleep in their bunk bed, but continues with shedding off his jeans and wincing at the creaking bed as he carefully crawls under the sheets.

Once in bed, he reaches under the mattress and divides his cashed pay into two envelopes. One labeled ‘ _college $$$_ ’ and the other ‘ _soulmate fund._ ’ Most of the money goes in his bank account towards his next semester’s books, gas money, food, but a small portion is kept under his mattress and devoted to his twenty-first birthday. It’s not much, a few hundred dollars for a plane ticket or train ride, but it’s a sappy habit he hasn’t been able to shake since he started college.

Tucking the envelopes back securely under the mattress, he lies back and is asleep in minutes; waking the next morning to strangely find his head pulled beneath his comforter.

Pushing the comforter back, he sits up, frowns, and presses the heel of his palm against the center of his chest at the slight discomfort lingering there.

 

* * *

 

Like any reasonable person, James copes with not having his switch by going out the next day to adopt a dog.

It begins with dinner on the couch after Joe practically has to drag James from his bed to force him to ingest some nourishment. Joe then turns on their favorite show and flows into their usual commentating about characters and plot. James is grateful for the distraction when his mind is swimming with thoughts of his soulmate’s absence.

James floats somewhere between watching the show in front of him and staring out at the night sky from the living room’s window when Joe mentions his co-worker telling him about a litter of puppies being dropped off at the animal shelter down the road. Someone had left them on the side of the road, little hand-sized bundles of whimpering and barking before some kind soul pulled over and put them in their front seat to take to the animal shelter.

James nods slowly, his lips set into a firm line of thought. Joe lets out a noise of surprise as the older man jumps from his spot on the couch, making a beeline to his bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Joe watches as James hops mid-step, pulling on his shoes. “Why do you have your car keys- _Why are you pulling my arm?_ I don’t have my phone with me. Where _are_ we going?”

James has them at the animal shelter half an hour later, nearly missing closing time, with a woman leading them over to a blanket-filled cardboard box that seems empty until there’s a shift under the bundle of fabric.

“She’s our last one.” Apparently, the vet told them earlier, that after she checked them out and deemed them purebred _Pembroke Welsh Corgi_ , people came flocking to adopt one. “She’s the smallest, but still healthy with a little attitude.”

James kneels, watching as a nose peeks out from under the blankets to sniff the air. She’s all spotty dark fur with patches of white and big, dark eyes. She gives a bark and slips running around the box, head finally tilting up at the unfamiliar face before letting out a bark and jumping up to greet him.

It spurs a laugh from James and a smile follows it, something he hasn’t done all day. Reaching down, he lifts her carefully with both hands and sets her down into his lap as he sits cross-legged. She begins playfully gnawing with teething teeth at his fingers, licking them shortly after and staring up at him.

It warms his chest, makes him feel... _hopeful_ , again. It allows the constant contemplation about his soulmate to pause, releasing its holds on his mind. He might not have met his soulmate today, or tomorrow, or the next, or maybe _ever_ , but that doesn’t mean he still cannot enjoy his life.

 _His life. Not his soulmates’_ , he repeats.

He remembers inadvertently in the moment of the fragile life in his lap snuggling against his leg that he’s not _incomplete_ without a soulmate. He’s still James, still himself with all his quirks and fuck-ups. Having a soulmate or not having a soulmate won’t change the —strange— way he lives his life.

“I’ll take her.”

The vet beams, taking the ball of fur from his hands and carrying her around to the back, “That’s great. My assistant can get you ringed up for the adoption fee while I give her the complimentary vaccinations.”

After filling out the paperwork, deciding this would be James’ dog specifically to care for, and paying the adoption fee, the vet returns with the Corgi and her vaccination tags.

She hands her to James, smiling at his carefulness, “Any idea on what you will name her?”

Joe rolls his eyes knowingly, recalling the animated television series  _Cowboy Bebop_ the pair would watch on the weekends.

Ein, it is.

 

* * *

 

 **July 2011**  
_James is 21, Aleks is 18_

 

Joe’s twenty-first birthday arrives in a blink of an eye and James knows he’s going to meet his best friend’s soulmate within a few hours. He can feel it the morning he wakes up to find Joe pacing in the living room, petting tiny Ein in his arms, a nervous smile on his face as the younger man inevitably thinks of the person he’s destined to hold by some unknown force.

James attempts to cook his friend a decent meal of pancakes. It’s not a total failure, by his usual standards of only being capable of preparing mac’ and cheese and sandwiches, and Joe drowns some burnt pancake edges with syrup to mask the taste. Ein whines underneath their legs for a scrap or two and Joe gives in, giving her a bite of his pancakes.

They dance around the spoken topic of soulmates for a while until it has to be brought up. It’s now rare for Joe brings up soulmates since last month, unless absolutely necessary in conversation with close friends or family, and James always silently thanks him for that. The shorter man sympathizes with James’ wish to brush off the idea he will have to wait another decade to see if he has a soulmate or not.

Joe cleans off his breakfast plate and hands the dish to James who places it in the dishwasher, “I think I want you to handle tomorrow morning the same way you said you wanted it last month: simple. It seems the best thing to do for them.”

James turns his back to him as he rinses out a coffee cup in the sink. They’ve been waiting their whole adolescence for their switch days. Being the first one to greet Joe’s soulmate is an intense responsibility, but attempts to lighten his own worrying with a small smile. “I’ll try my best. Try not to stay up too late, they say people do that and their soulmates wake up all groggy and shit.”

“I guess I’m just excited, is all. It could be the biggest day of my life, seeing my mate for the first time.”

Unlike his own quiet birthday night spent in their house, James decides Joe deserves a party for the event with some of their close friends. One of the most positive and _rowdy_ people in his life deserves a celebration

Evening comes and familiar faces flow into the house with gifts, cake, and alcohol. James places Ein in her kennel in his bedroom, making sure she has enough food and water and that her bed properly is adjusted before heading back downstairs. He returns to find some of their friends tease Joe of his chances of meeting his soulmate, James always piping in with a retort to knock it off. Joe’s parents call halfway through the night to wish him a happy birthday and to reassure him when they hear his nervous tone over the phone.

Soon, after a few drinks and a large order of pizzas, the night comes to a close and the two men move to clean up the house. Once the mess is deemed to be their version of tidy, Joe gathers around a small cake in the kitchen to blow out candles.

James gives him a gift, of course. Just as Joe had given him something he was interested in, very scarce wrestling match tickets for next summer, he had bought the younger man an expensive piece of equipment —that he really didn’t understand— for repairing his _child_ of a car.

Joe slaps him on the back in a hug and clutches the piece of metal before heading upstairs to bed. James carries Ein downstairs to let her out in the backyard, yelling a goodnight and happy birthday to his friend as he remains downstairs in the kitchen, shoveling cake into his mouth.

He hopes Joe’s soulmate _somehow_ values up to his best friend’s level.

 

* * *

 

It’s four in the morning when James’ door creaks open. The hallway light peeking into his dark bedroom makes him squint as he sits up and pushes back his blankets. Ein lets out a high-pitched bark at the intrusion and James squints as Joe somehow jumps at the sound.

He’s bleary-eyed and groggy as he stands to push the man back into his room in his half-asleep state. “Joe, go back to bed. You need to sleep if your mate switch to happen.”

Just as James places his hand on Joe’s shoulder, a strange squeak and a burst of sputtering comes out of the man and he turns around to face him. James knows something is off when Joe rakes his fingers through his own facial hair. He clears his throat as he stares up at James.

“I’m not. . . Joe?” Joe says, their tone’s pitch rising as a question as if testing their own vocal range. “My name is definitely Ellie.”

James blinks out of his sleep induced daze, realizes what was just celebrated, and grins at her. Joe’s mate. _Joe has a soulmate!_ He bites back the urge to yell out the words and scare the woman. Instead, he tells her to wait, runs into his room to grab his phone, and returns to gesture her downstairs to the living room.

She hesitantly sits down on the couch and sniffs the air, “It smells like beer and pepperoni pizza in here.”

James laughs at this as he sets his phone down, “Yeah, uh, we celebrated my friend’s twenty-first birthday last night.” He sees the realization dawn on her as her eyes widen and she takes a soft intake of breath. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. I’m Joe’s roommate, James.”

James swears he sees tears gathering in Joe’s eyes as he tells her all he can of his friend. He tells her how kind he is and how funny he gets when he’s drunk; how much trouble they used to cause in high school and how he adores all shapes and sizes of dogs. He lists his favorite foods, music, and movies.

When he finishes, he pulls out a lidded box to show her pictures of them together in high school and stupid portrait photos Joe made him take.

She takes in a deep breath, “ _Shit._ I thought I didn’t- I thought I wouldn't have a soulmate. I mean, my twenty-first birthday was a year ago and I know that isn’t _that_ long of a wait, but you kind of always have doubts about it in the back of your mind.”

James nods in understanding, pressing his lips into a thin line, “My birthday was last month and I still haven’t switched.”

She surprises him as she reaches over to place a gentle hand over his. James tries not to let out a laugh at how strange Joe makes the action appear. _It’s fucking weird_ ; having Joe in front of him with all these mannerisms that definitely aren’t _Joe_.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was worth the wait for me. Just hang in there.” She smiles at a picture of Joe perched in a large tree on their childhood homes’ street.

James’ phone rings a few minutes after and Ellie nods at the recognition of her phone number on the screen. James answers the phone to the sound of a young woman’s voice and sends Ellie a reassuring expression before handing the phone to her.

He tries not to listen to their first conversation as he leans hidden against the kitchen doorway. Ellie, conveniently, lives in the same state, Pennsylvania, in a small city only a few hours away. They plan to meet at a halfway point between each other tomorrow and will both leave in the morning.

James is overjoyed for his friend, truly, but can’t help feeling cold in his bed in early July as Ellie continues to talk on the phone in Joe’s ecstatic tone of voice a room over.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 2004**  
_James is 14, Aleks is 11_

 

Winter break anticipation looms over James’ eighth grade class as they sit in their final hour of math lecturing. The teacher stands with their back turned to the two dozen desks as they write problems for the class to solve on the whiteboard. Thankfully, his assigned desk sits beside the window overlooking the rural woods behind the school.

Snow coats the trees and James follows the blurry flakes gather against the edge of the window.

He startles as a piece of crumpled paper flicks the right side of his face, just against his cheek, falls to land in his lap. He gives a quick glance at the teacher writing a new algebra equation before he unfolds the piece of paper. Reading over the words, his feels his face flush in betrayal and hears a breath of laughter from his right. Joe sits beside him, slumped in his chair and pressing a hand against his face to contain a grin James translates as him teasingly cheering him on. Leaning forward to see around Joe, James finds the origin of the laughter and he smiles easily at his classmate, Emily, before circling his answer to the question she had written out in metallic, purple handwriting.

 

_Do you want to go to the Winter Formal with me? Yes :) [ ] or No :( [ ]_

 

James folds the paper before slipping it to Joe, who then hands it to Angela, who then hands it to Emily, who smiles at him quickly before grinning at her friends around her. Beside him, Joe angles his hand low to the ground and gives him a discreet high five.

The following weekend, Winter formal arrives and James twists his fingers in his lap as his mom drives him and Joe over to Emily’s house where they were to meet both their dates.

Joe rings the doorbell and James can only get out a quick ‘ _you look really nice_ ’ to Emily as she opens the door in a shimmering, silver dress with glitter in her intricately styled hair. James tries to be suave as he places a light pink corsage —as she requested over their chat in AIM— on her wrist, but falters in his act as she gently pins a similar rose to the new blazer of his _gentlemanly_ suit.

Their moms coo and usher them under a tree in their backyard to take many photos. His mother urges him to smile more and gives encouragement to Joe’s own beaming face, much to his dismay.

Later that night, after James’ mom dropped them off, they thoroughly danced a variety of songs James couldn’t remember the name of —Joe’s favorite seemed to be the _1, 2, Step_ and _Hey Ya!_ — and socialized among themselves.

James mostly remained in the circle of his and Emily’s group of friends. All was well before a soft melody broke the fast paced atmosphere. Trepidation of slow dancing made his hands sweat inside their once comfortable home of his jacket pockets. Emily turned to him with a nervous smile. Beside him, Joe was pulled by his own date to the center of the gym. His friend gave him an encouraging nod as he swayed to the song with his date.

In the end, he is led with a pull of his sweaty hand in hers into the throng of other pre-teens. He laughs with her as his palms brush against the sequins of the bodice of her dress as he rests them there. He’s grateful for the few inches he has on her as she hooks her arms around the collar of his jacket and neck.

At the end of the night, James has his first kiss with Emily Walker outside the school gym.

It’s short and confusing and their noses hit each other, but she laughs with him and they hold hands walking back to the entrance of the building. Before they enter the doors, she leans her head against his shoulder and he glances down at her.

To this day, James remembers her words.

“I would be very happy if you were my _soulmate_ , James.” She says with bright eyes.

James recalls how his chest soared at the statement. How so much hope gathered in his chest that _maybe_ Emily Walker was his one, his _soul_ _mate_ , his forever and he had just shared his first kiss with her.

But he also remembers once upon a time, his parents were soulmates. He remembers instantly feeling the hope in his chest fade away like his breath in the cold December night when he thinks back to his parent’s fate. At the time, his parents’ divorce and broken soulbond was still a fresh wound to his idea of soulmates; despite the event taking place six years prior.

And to this day, James remembers his response.

“Maybe. . . I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He says with a tight smile.

To anyone that _truly_ knew him, the word ‘maybe’ unquestionably meant _no_.

 

* * *

 

 **September 2012**  
_James is 22, Aleks is 19_

 

Aleks despises being a statistic, but ultimately drops out of college a week before his twentieth birthday in the beginning of his second year. He moves back home into his obnoxious, red walled bedroom with band posters and his scuffed up computer desk.

“It was a good run.” His friend, Brett, tells him over a _Skype_ call when he tells him the news. “At least you can say you tried.”

He had endured university life for multiple reasons, mainly being friends and the expectation of his family who were mostly all college graduates in some extent, but decided it wasn’t for him one late night in a workshop. He had been juggling his _YouTube_ channel and coursework to the point of exhaustion and, ultimately, he chose the thing that gave him more _pride_.

Brett is nine years his senior at twenty-nine, but working as an executive producer at _Machinima_ for the past two years and meeting over a gaming show the man hosted last year made him an easy friend to talk to. They occasionally play a few matches of games Brett recommends, chatting about projects the older man is working on and what the next video on Aleks’ channel will be.

Aleks still hasn’t revealed his face on camera and Brett teases him about the _Transformer Optimus Prime_ mask he dons in videos. Aleks tells him repeatedly its for the sake of mystery for the viewers and _his_ own privacy.

The truth is —and he knows he’s being _somewhat_ arrogant in thinking this because his viewership isn’t _that_ large, but— he doesn’t want his soulmate to see his face before the switch on his twenty-first next year. The authenticity of seeing his face in person when they looked in the mirror is such an important moment he values his soulmate to have more than anything.

Aleks often asks Brett about waking up to his soulmate’s reflection those eight years ago.

“It’s fucking surreal,” Brett tells him one afternoon during a conversation regarding his show’s schedule. “You feel different. It throws off your center of gravity because you’re shorter or taller or lean or ripped. My vision was different because my soulmate wears glasses and I woke up to a blurry room.”

Aleks laughs at this and tries not to listen too fiercely as Brett continues, “I know the details are _really_ stupid, but no one tells you about the awkward moments with the switch.”

His gray and white guinea pig, Hank, digs around in his cage beside Aleks’ desk. Aleks lifts open the cage door to give him a yogurt treat as Brett carries on with talking about his switch.

Brett and his soulmate were still unmarried, but it was common for most soulmates to be content with the absence of it. After all, what was more binding than a soulbond to another person?

Pushing his hair back from his face, Aleks glances down at his uncompleted tattoo sleeve. The tattoo artist asked him if he was positive he wanted to start on the project before he turned twenty-one, just in case his soulmate didn’t like tattoos.

He frowns at the thought, _his mate not liking his tattoos_. If they were his soulmate and they didn’t appreciate the artistry and personal meanings behind the permanent designs on people’s skin, then the universe must’ve made a mistake. Right?

Soulmates’ opinions and mindsets weren’t always _identical_ , but historically they were interested in similar things and always had small _cosmical_ connections that led down similar paths.

He eyes his the bass guitar propped up in the corner of the room and wonders if his soulmate plays any instruments or even particularly _likes_ music.

Brett pulls him out of his thoughts over Skype, “Aleks, hey, I gotta go. Someone from work is calling me. I’ll talk to you on Sunday about that project, all right?”

And with that, Aleks is left to feed his guinea pig and pet tarantula and ponder about what type of tattoo he will get for his soulmate in the future.

 

* * *

 

The thing is, James doesn’t necessarily care _who_ his soulmate is.

Male, female? Either are pretty nice in their own way. Speaking a language he understands would be agreeable, but if needed he would learn an entire language for them; he wouldn’t be the first English speaker to have a non-English speaking soulmate.

But one can’t help fantasizing about the _details_ of one’s soulmate.

He isn’t some fucking jerk who presses an overvalue on looks in a soulmate,—he wears the same brand of blue jeans and sneakers most of the time, for crying out loud— but it’s the details of them that keep him, and most of the world waiting for their soulmates, awake at night.

So he lies in bed, asking himself these questions.

What color are their eyes? What color is their hair? Are they shorter or taller than him? When they hug, is he going to have someone’s face in his chest or on his shoulder or is someone going to rest their chin _annoyingly_ on his head? Do they have freckles or scars? Tattoos? When they kiss, is one of them going to reach up or lean down?

How do they sleep? Will they let James sleep on the left side since that’s the side he’s used to sleeping on? Do they like shellfish? James is allergic to shellfish, so that would be a minor setback.

What kind of music do they prefer to listen to? What are their favorite shows? Joe and him’s favorite show at the moment is _Breaking Bad_ , so he hopes they can tolerate it. Are they more of a cat or dog person? James himself leans more towards dogs and their bouncy attitudes, but cats are fine too if his soulmate wants one.

James is lying in bed when a string of thoughts drift into his mind. It warms his skin, heat drifting down from his neck to his chest and causing him to shift under the sheets.

Would he _finally_ get to experience the pleasure that is touching his mate intimately? Would their skin be soft or rough against his? Would he have a designated favorite place for making marks on his mate’s skin? Would they tease him in bed or would they be patient and all laughter and calm smiles? Would they let him pin them down underneath him or would they flip him over with their own weight atop his? What kind of sounds would they make under his hands?

He hasn’t noticed his breathing and racing heart until his hand drifts underneath the sheets. He’s only in a pair of boxers and he swears as he curls his toes, turning his body slightly to rub his half-hard cock against the mattress. He reaches down to wrap a hand around himself and shimmy out of his boxers.

The house is quiet since Joe and Ellie are out of town for her cousin’s wedding. All he can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and the creaking of his bed.

It isn’t as if he hasn’t masturbated in a while, but it’s different to think of his soulmate, entering an undefined tightness and having their hands on him. Their hands running through his hair. _Their_ mouth or _hands_ on _him_. Turning his face into his pillow, he quickly reaches over to his bedside table to grab some lubricant to make it easier.

He barely needs the extra lubricant as he thumbs the head, easily gathering the pre-cum there and giving himself a slow stroke. He lets out a low breath, quickening his pace and shutting his eyes briefly. Phantom words of encouragement develop in his mind. Another warm hand replacing his own. Lips pressed against his neck before moving to the shell of his ear.

After gaining a steady rhythm and turning completely onto his back, he feels the insistent, climbing curl in his stomach. He can’t believe he’s coming from this, touching himself to the thought of his _unseen_ , _unheard_ , _unfound_ soulmate. He’s so fucked up in the head sometimes; he hopes his soulmate can tolerate it.

Rolling his hips ever so slightly into his hand, he lets out a scale of breaths as he releases onto his hand and sheets. He still pants softly, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before cleaning himself up, grabbing a new pair of boxers, and throwing on a clean top sheet. Ein whines at the door and he rolls his tired eyes as he opens the door to lift her onto the bed. He’s grown too lenient about letting her sleep on the bed, but appreciates the company as she curls up beside his leg at the end of the comforter.

Turning on his side, he stares at the empty spot beside him.

His voice is an indignant, drowsy mumble in the silent room as he closes his eyes for sleep, “Goodnight. If you’re even out there, wherever you are, goodnight. . . And _hurry up_ , asshole.”

 

* * *

 

 **March 2013**  
_James is 22, Aleks is 20_

 

Brett somehow snags Aleks a _Content Creator_ badge for PAX East in Boston. Despite it taking less than an hour drive to reach the capital city from his hometown, it will still be his first time attending the event. He’s been to concerts and other largely crowded events, but never to one on the large scale PAX holds itself to.

He cuts his hair a few days before Brett flies down late Thursday afternoon for the event’s three day weekend. It’s shorter now in the front and back, his previous lengthy bangs now gone with a sensible cut that covers a small portion of his forehead.

The first thing Brett does when Aleks greets him at the airport is ruffle his new hair cut and laugh at his irked reaction. After gathering Brett’s luggage from the baggage carousel, they walk out of the airport to Aleks’ parked car before driving to Brett’s hotel near the convention center.

The hotel lobby is packed and Aleks is mildly uncomfortable at the cluster of people in the elevator, but he hurries into an empty elevator with Brett alongside him. Brett graciously booked them two hotel rooms, with his being three doors down the hall, but his own is a spacious room with a large bed with a window with a view and Aleks whistles lowly as he pushes back the curtains.

“Want to grab some dinner? I’m starving. And remember, vegetarian.” Brett says, pointing to himself.

“I remember. There’s a decent place a few minutes away. It’s hidden, so it shouldn’t be too crowded for a Friday night. There’s also a nice coffee and pastry place a few blocks down.”

They walk the trip since the sun’s only just setting above the high buildings. When Brett asks if he’s worried about people somehow recognizing him at PAX —his channel subscriber count has grown to around six hundred thousand at this point, unbelievably—, Aleks waves him off. Brett reminds him some people carry cameras around the expo halls to film.

“Some people like to get up in your face if they see you have a yellow _Content Creator_ badge, I’m just warning you. I know you probably don’t want cameras on you like that.”

  
Aleks diverts the subject to Brett’s past experiences with PAX, continuing the conversation until they reach the small restaurant’s block. The sun has almost fully set as they walk in front of the establishment. Aleks is glad he put on his nice leather jacket as a slight chill breezes through the air.

It’s the best meal he’s had in a while and after they head over to a coffee shop to grab something warm to sip before walking back to the hotel. They sit at a small table in the busy and dim lit cafe and Aleks has a good time chatting despite spilling a whole shaker of sugar and having to deal with Brett’s booming laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

When the tickets for PAX East go on sale in October, James is granted access to a _Content Creator_ badge and somehow pulls strings to get Joe a _Media_ badge.

Soon, March comes around and the two men are boarding a plane for Boston on Thursday before the convention’s opening three day weekend. They’ve known each other for years, have lived together for years, so it was simple to book a two bed hotel room a few weeks back. After they grab a taxi from the airport to their hotel and unpack their things, it’s early evening and they agree to find a place for dinner.

On the way Joe jokes about him missing his opportunity to bring someone back to his room since they’re sharing, but James waves him off and threatens to tell Ellie about an embarrassing moment from high school that immediately stops the other man’s grinning.

Their hotel is crowded, as James expected from his experience with PAX East last year, but not crowded enough to hinder Joe from calling to front desk to ask for a recommended place to eat. The concierge states that while most people go to popular restaurants and wait hours for a table, the family owned restaurants are hidden gems with great food and little to no wait.

They suggest a small restaurant a few blocks down and the two men begin their small walk. The scene inside the restaurant is lively as they walk by the windows. As they enter, they’re immediately hit with the smell of fresh bread and spices before being led to an open table. There’s only a few tables full, but James appreciates the quiet.

Joe somehow convinces him for dessert at a bakery slash coffee shop down the street. He’s assaulted once again with delicious smells, but instead of fresh bread and spices, it’s strong coffee and sweets. He doesn’t think he can eat anymore, but Joe buys him a piece of blackberry pie with ice cream and gets himself a slice of chocolate cake. James pitches in as well and buys them both a hot drink. James loves the blackberry pie so much he convinces Joe to have a bite and when Joe’s face twists up at the sourness James is personally offended, but laughs anyway as Joe gets up to get a water to cleanse his palette.

Sitting at the table alone, James replies to a few texts and tweets only to be pulled away from his phone at the commotion of laughter across the room from a glass container of _sugar_ spilling onto the floor. There are too many people to see the face of who made such a mess, but he sees a man in a leather jacket across the room reach down onto the floor. He can’t help but smile and feel a small amount of sympathy for the man as he hopelessly gets a napkin to wipe it up.

He doesn’t know if it’s just the warm lights above him or the heat of the modern fireplace in the center of the shop, but James feels. . . _content_ in the restaurant’s chattering.

Suspicious, Joe asks him what’s he’s smiling so much about when he returns with his water.

James doesn’t know how to reply, so he pushes his plate of remaining blackberry pie across the table.


End file.
